Letters of the week: Readers weigh in on ‘Frisco’

In the Letters to the Editor Department, the most interesting topic of the past two weeks has been the age-old question of whether “Frisco” is an appropriate nickname for San Francisco. Local luminaries from Emperor Norton to Herb Caen have weighed in, and now our readers got a chance.

The latest flurry of opinion was set off by Peter Hartlaub’s story in Datebook on March 6 (“Nickname might not be so bad”) followed by our editorial musing on that and other monikers attached to Bay Area localities, like them or not:

Go ahead, call it ‘Frisco’

I’d like to weigh in on the Frisco controversy (“Nickname might not be so bad,” Datebook, March 6).

When I first moved to the Bay Area from HumboldtCounty in 1978, I already knew that calling San Francisco “Frisco” was just not done. We got The Chronicle up in Arcata and knew that Herb Caen had waged war against the nickname.

But you know, to thousands of G.I.s who passed through here during World War II, like my uncle and my dad, it was Frisco. I always thought it had a cool sound, reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade: slightly seamy and steamy, black-and-white, not Technicolor, Raymond Chandleresque, kind of film noir.

Apologies to Herb Caen, but it’s like calling the Hells Angels the “Angels.” Bikers would know of whom you speak.

It does sound wrong coming from the tongues of Bay Area residents. But when out-of-towners use the nickname it evokes the mythos of the city. I’ll bet if St. Francis were planning a trip here from L.A., he’d “say I’m driving up the coast to Frisco.”

Jamey Brzezinski, Pacifica

Origin of the taboo: Emperor Norton I

Peter Hartlaub’s article suggests that it might be time to give up the taboo, which he associates with the middle class in a certain period of San Francisco history, but it might have been around longer than he realizes. Emperor Norton used to write people citations fining them for calling the city Frisco. Apparently the tradition predates Herb Caen by nearly a century and was started by someone on the fringes of society.

David Gordon, South San Francisco

The name once was a term of endearment

I love San Francisco. It’s been my town for 32 years. Though I call it San Francisco or “S.F.,” I no longer care when people say “Frisco.”

The reason? An unforgettable visit from my dad. He made a reference to Frisco and I, to my shame, corrected him because I’d been swayed by Herb Caen’s columns. My dear dad, who served in the Navy in World War II, got a bit misty-eyed. He gently told me that he was shipped to the Philippines from Frisco. He said Frisco was a term of endearment used by all the Navy boys who roamed the city with excitement and affection, their last pleasure before heading into the Pacific side of the war. I have no problem with anyone who calls our city Frisco.

Why do we need to continue this conversation? The name of our beloved city is San Francisco. Period. Not San Fran (sorry, young people who insist on abbreviating everything), not Cisco (ditto last comment), and certainly not Frisco.

Doesn’t anyone have any respect for Herb Caen, or Emperor Norton? Why do we need to abbreviate? Are folks now just too lazy to say the proper name? San Francisco is and always will be San Francisco.

And one more thing: Cali? Really? Don’t get me started on this one.

Stephanie Sanders-Badt, Oakland

Get it right

Thank you for the editorial about misnaming some of our cities, counties or state. It always puzzled me why the weathercasters of all local TV stations call MountTamalpais “MountTam.”

Why can’t they pronounce MountTamalpais? I find it just as irritating as when people call San Francisco “Frisco” or Berkeley “Berzerkeley.”

G. Jan de Vries, Berkeley

The ‘Cali’ nightmare

Regarding “Cali”— please, the only people (besides Guy Fieri) that I’ve heard use that abominable term were preteens from states other than California (especially Texas). This was when I was a middle-school English teacher in Modesto. I wish Guy would cease and desist, and that that particular label would never be acceptable, at least within our big, beautiful state.